Month: April 2012

Death stalks us around the block
As we shop for groceries
Death watches us sleep
As we dream of unobservable sums
Death clears our doorstep
On a windy fall night
Death finishes off the card game
Late in the early hour of the morning
Death cheers at the finish line
As we develop our muscles
Death encourages us
Standing in line for lunch
Death crosses the street
On our way in to work
Death sings a song
As we lament a bad deed done
Death cries wearily
At the doorstep of our sins
Death dances a fine jig
On the mantle of our success
And death holds our hand
As we march forth into the waking eyes of a new day

Forever the long list of needs pulses through the veins of the victims
Struck upside the head with the wand of needs, there is no relent from the victimized dissent
But dizzy, dizzy as it goes shall lead the stray flock to madness
Searching for the illustrious water that eludes even the thriftiest of wanderers
“How dare you try and steal my gems you require for the breath of life,
I have them here to look at and tell me I’m pretty!”
Language invades the concept of thought as it carries slogans
And catch phrases into the night with brand names and price tags stuck nicely upon thy mind

Does the search end in triumph? Does it gratify the seeker?

How dare you pose these stupid, senseless questions forth in a time of such need
You dumbfounded nit worth half his weight in shit!
Do you think you can stop the bubble of growth?
The power of the exponent shall push you aside in unmitigated power!
Animate your mind man! Animate your soul! Find what your worth and spend it hapless
Spend it until your broke, and borrow upon that!
Spend it until the bankers seize up your boat, foreclose your home,
Steal away your children and rape your own wife who sits idly smiling
As your dragged off in chains by the two large men carrying baseball bats and suits
Hand in hand she sits with a new purse and slicked hair
Life is great now, life is all good

We all need to forget once and a while
The old roads that have led us to here
There is no grand scheme of things that
Haven’t been trampled by the many footsteps
Upon which the journey belong

There are no once worn-once gone soldiers of fortune
Forgotten because of the mysteries
That plague the little corners of the estate
There is no black sin that sits upon the foyer
Idly waiting with lazy eyes, slightly smirking
As if in a trance ready to spoil the story

No journey begins at the end of the line
For no line begins at the house of resting
There are no paths that lead you to misery
There are only details that strike their glare
So daringly sharp that elders wear sun-glasses
There are no people that expect what’s been left
Save the flyers that will not be guest

Yeh, it just went there
It just crossed the line
It just grabbed that line
Stuffed it between it’s teeth
Snarled right mean like
Twisted it’s head a few times
Gave that sideways glance
And crossed the line

I’ve flicked the switch into the landscape unknown
It’s rocky, so perhaps then I do know the unknown
Perhaps it leads me to doors I’ve already crossed
And hands I’ve already shaken
Perhaps the golden wings that watch my way
Have slipped through these tracks
Racing against time to make the next happy hour
Resisting the urge to buy yet another round on inflation

Then perhaps I’ve just looked the other way
As the violins play this lonely song along my own yellow brick road
“Cool-y he walks with a keen gaze and a saunter in tow”
Light dipping as he reaches his destination
Pulse quickening as he sees his obsession
Hand slipping as he feels his erection
But the wind dies down, allowing the leaves to come to rest
The calloused palms also find their idle locale

Perhaps there were golden wings that floated by my being
On the day I looked the other way
When the cold shoulders washed away the last glowing embers
Of the landsliding memories

Indeed, without the violet flowers littering these steps
I’d have passed alone long ago
Hand in hand with the deceit of deception fondly
Clearing the way for another

But then again, who sold the calloused palms
Of the unholy man to the corporate man
Who gave the soldiers of misfortune the chance to count on banks
Of unwashed driveways sliding sideways

It wasn’t I. It wasn’t thou who hast led the unmarked graves
Blindly into the horizon, which ironically
Is the same direction of home: West
Perchance you could give a lone man a hitch?

In time that cold shoulder turned my way and lingered
Changed from the years of regret and abuse
Unmarried by chance to the same banks the soldiers do depend
Unobserved by the same furrows that shade my brow